Gradual Progression
by saradelovely
Summary: Ten years after their brief fling in high school, Puck and Rachel are saying yes to marriage, and yes to a lifetime of commitment. The problem with these types of things, there's always a problem, is that they're not saying yes to each other.
1. Chapter 1

Rachel is twenty six when she says yes to marriage. She says yes to a five carat diamond over dinner, momentarily stunned by the events occurring. She had expected a ring and a proposal; she's the type of girl to get married. She had expected this type of thing but she bites the inside corner of her lip nervously, she didn't expect this so soon. The ring is floating in her champagne glass, and her fiancé has prepared a wonderful speech, and she loves him. She does; this type of love doesn't need convincing. She doesn't believe in soul mates but she believes in waking up with one person for the rest of her life, and she could see herself waking up to Mark. He's an investment banker, the responsible man she's always seen herself marrying. He doesn't fit into her theatrical lifestyle, and she thinks that's the best part.

She shakes her head to jolt her out of her thoughts and Mark panics; he hadn't expected a no in a crowd of people. Rachel puts her hand over his, a reassuring smile on her lips, and of course she'll marry him. Mark kisses her, and he looks relieved. Rachel kisses back and wonders why there's an ache multiplying at the bottom of her stomach. This is not how the newly engaged are meant to feel. Mark smiles at those staring around them, flashing a thumbs up sign to signal she said yes. Everybody claps, and Rachel smiles nervously, nervous at the attention. She's a performer, she should be used to attention. The manager sends champagne on the house, and she arrives home with him, tipsy and exhausted.

Mark kisses her in the middle of their living room, and she kisses him back, but he tastes different and she doesn't understand why. She's had him before, their relationship has lasted since the early days of college. He found her on the lawn, preparing for an audition, and she liked the way he made her laugh. He's made her laugh and he's never made her cry. Her relationship is the most stable out of all the people she knows, and her friends and family love him. That's always been enough for her.

Rachel picks up the phone in the morning, holding it in her hands to call everyone she knows. She dials the first set of numbers when she places the phone back onto the table. She'll wait, she decided. She'll keep the good news to herself for a little while longer. She goes back to sleep, and visions of diamonds and white cloud her vision. She wakes up, and wonders why her engagement feels like the end.

Puck is twenty six when he proposes marriage. It had been an accident in every sense of the word. He hid the ring in his sock drawer, and she found it, squealing in excitement. He's been dating Emily since he enrolled in college, since he first saw her in her cheer leading uniform. She's wonderful and this is the next step in their relationship; he has to propose sooner or later, it might as well be now. He says something off the top of his head, and it sounds horrible to his ears but she loves it, and says yes before he finishes asking the question. He nurses a beer while she calls all of her family and friends. Suddenly, he feels tired and he doesn't understand why.

He pretends to be asleep when Emily crawls into bed with him, and makes no motion when her hand covers his side. He'll talk to her in the morning, he thinks. It's her own fault for being on the phone the entire night. He wakes up the next morning, and she's sleeping, a content smile on her face. He doesn't have the heart to wake her, and kisses her on the forehead instead. He walks out the door, keys and cell phone in hand. He's dialing his mother to tell her the good news, and they talk and talk, but the conversation is over after twenty minutes when she hangs up and he realizes he never told her.

Ten years after their brief fling in high school, Puck and Rachel are saying yes to marriage, and yes to a lifetime of commitment. The problem with these types of things, there's always a problem, is that they're not saying yes to each other.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm engaged," she blurts out. It is Tuesday afternoon, early afternoon when she meets him for lunch. Lunch has become a regular occurrence between the pair the past few years. They lost touch after graduation but she ran into him one day after the end of college, and that's where the first lunch came to fruition. They attend the same bistro every week, and order the same item from the menu. It is a routine with them, a comfortable routine in the chaos of her regular world. She watches Puck anxiously for signs of a reaction, his fork hovering in mid-air as he stares. She says the words out loud and everything becomes rather real.

"To who?"

Puck is the first person she has told the news to, and she expected well wishes rather than the inquisition. He knows she is in a committed relationship with Mark; the pair spent the last Super Bowl together, screaming at the television screen. She rolls her eyes at the memory; men and their sports.

"What do you mean, to who? To Mark, obviously."

"The suit guy?"

"Honestly, Puck. We've been dating since freshmen year of college. Eight years."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to go and marry the guy. He wears a monkey suit."

"I thought you liked Mark. The two of you had a great time watching the Saints win earlier this year."

"I do. I do like him, I mean," says Puck, stumbling over the words. He doesn't know where the stumbling came from. "He's a cool guy, not half bad once you get to know him. Still, that's not a fair example. Sports is manly, Berry. Sports equals bonding."

Rachel stays silent, his reaction puzzling her more than it should. She wonders if he is trying to explain away his good feelings towards Mark. She searches her mind, Puck likes Mark. The two have always gotten along fine, and in areas without the sports.

"Congratulations," Puck answers finally, shoving food inside his mouth. He breaks into a smile after he finishes chewing, the look of relief on Rachel's face escaping him. He thinks thoughtfully. "Me too."

Rachel kinks an eyebrow.

"Too what?"

"Engaged."

"You're engaged," says Rachel, her voice thickened with disbelief.

The news comes as a surprise to Rachel. She knew that Puck had been serious for quite some time with his girlfriend, Emily, but she didn't know that they had reached that level of commitment. Though, after eight years together, she supposes it was now or never for the couple. She finds herself rather pleased for him. She hadn't expected him to be the settling type but even the people she knows best can surprise her.

"Stop sounding so surprised."

"I'm not," she says, beaming. "I'm really happy for you. This is wonderful news. Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Puck said, shrugging.

"I didn't even know you were planning on proposing."

Puck shifts uncomfortably. He grabs his beer and takes a quick swallow, thinking about the appropriate response to her comment. He goes with the truth, even if the truth sounds sketchy.

"I wasn't. She found the ring in the drawer, and I couldn't get out of it. What was I supposed to do? Say I bought you a ring just in case I decide to propose?"

Rachel takes a sip of wine, laughing. It sounds on par with what she anticipated.

"That would have been wonderful, actually. I like Em, she suits you."

"Thanks, I think. I like her too. I guess I'll like her more as my fiancée. I hear engagement sex is pretty hot."

Rachel thinks back to the night before, the nervousness in the bottom of her stomach when Mark kissed her. He kissed her like it was the first time he's ever done that, and she wonders if engagement kisses are supposed to be different; the whole starting a new chapter of lives together and all.

"I suppose you're right. That's how you and Emily celebrated?"

Puck shakes his head, grumbling under his breath. He wishes that's how he celebrated, instead of listening to her talk on the phone the entire night, and then pretending to be asleep when she reached for him.

"No, she went to call everyone she knows to tell them the good news, and I had a beer, and fell asleep from all of the excitement."

Puck leaves out the mention of the nervousness in his stomach, the sinking hesitation he felt afterwards. It's just engagement jitters, he rationalizes to himself. Giving up his freedom, even if he does love Emily.

"We should have dinner together, all four of us to celebrate. I find it rather amusing that we became engaged on the same day, likely hours apart."

"I'll talk it over with Emily, see when we're all free. Friday night would probably be best, if that works for you and the monkey suit."

Rachel shoots him a dirty look, watching as he throws his hands up in a peace gesture.

"Just kidding, Berry. Just kidding. Michael, Mark, is more than welcome to attend."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel takes another sip of wine. She looks at Puck's face, the excitement and good humor in his eyes, and she wonders if he's anxious about everything underneath it all. She wants to ask him, a casual sentence or two to confirm she is the only one with these fears, but he looks happy. He looks happy, and she's the only one with these doubts.

She pushes the doubts to the darkest corner of her mind, hoping that they won't re-surface again. The rest of the conversation passes normally, the regular back and forth banter that she has come to know and love. There is no more talk with regards to weddings and rings, but she sees Puck glance at her ring finger once or twice, almost as if he is in disbelief as well. She makes a note to ask him about his opinion on the ring.

The pair exchange their good-byes after an hour, a quick hug. Walking in the opposite direction, Rachel mulls the newfound news. Engaged, she muses. She breaks out into a smile. At least she'll have someone to gripe about wedding planning with.


	3. Chapter 3

The foursome do come together for a Friday night dinner at the Central Park apartment Rachel shares with Mark. Emily, despite her good feelings towards Rachel and Mark, is not thrilled to be attending. She has had dinner with the pair several times, finding their company enjoyable. However, she wishes Noah had consulted with her prior to agreeing to the evening. She's had a difficult week at work, losing two cases for her law firm, and regardless of the success she is experiencing in her personal life, her head is not in the mood for a celebratory occasion. She wishes they could have ordered take-out and watched a movie, something simple and that required wearing sweats and not dressing up. She flips through the clothes in her closet, finally settling on the standard black dress, and walks into the bathroom to get ready.

She stays quiet for a long time before the words finally come rushing out of her.

"Why can't we give them our good wishes at their engagement party? I was hoping we could stay in tonight, I've had a ridiculous week at work, Noah," she says, watching Noah put on his clothes in the corner of her bathroom mirror. She gives him a look in the mirror as she puts on her make-up, and he comes over.

He puts his hands around her waist, his teeth nipping on her ear. She groans, she loves the way he makes her feel.

"I promise to make it up to you later, babe. I promise."

Emily flashes a half-smile, still unhappy at attending. He hoists her onto the bathroom sink, kissing her.

"It'll be fun," he says, kissing her neck, his mouth trailing downwards to her collar bone. Emily thinks she could get into this, and perhaps peeling him out of his clothes will lead him to stay home. She moves her hands around his belt, trying to tug it loose. Startled, she nearly falls when he lets her go.

"I have to go put on my shoes, we're going to be late," yells Noah as he fixes his belt. He walks out of the bathroom, leaving a disappointed Emily in his wake. "We'll rain check this."

Sighing heavily, and not bothering to issue a response, she climbs off the sink to continue getting ready. She attempts to quiet the grumbling thoughts inside of her, resolving to not say anything else.

On the other side of the park, Rachel and Mark find themselves in the midst of a similar disagreement. Mark sits down on the couch as he watches Rachel race through the room, adjusting various items to make sure everything looks suitable for their guests.

"I was looking forward to staying home with you, Rach. You don't have rehearsals for your new production, I don't have a lot of work. It's not too late to cancel, you know. We could enjoy a quiet evening in the apartment, just the two of us. I could even be persuaded to have sex on the couch."

"We are staying home, Mark. And that couch was just reupholstered."

"You know what I meant," he answers, rolling his eyes at her tone. He's met Noah several times over the years. He's not completely terrible. Still, between the choice of staying in with his fiancée or celebrating with another couple, the choice is likely to be obvious.

She turns to face him, slight waves of anger visible in her eyes.

"They're our friends and it would be nice to celebrate our engagement together. I don't understand why you are causing a scene."

She turns back around, continuing to dust the shelves. Mark keeps silent, watching her clean. He bites his tongue before he can correct her usage of the possessive pronouns. _Your_ friend, he wants to say. He is _your_ friend, Rach.

Opening the door, Rachel can't hide the excitement when she sees Noah and Emily. Despite her original reservations, she's taken an enormous liking to the woman. She finds her strong and bold, not to mention attractive. Rachel throws her arms around the pair, nearly squashing them both in the process.

She attempts a subtle head gesture to Mark and he walks over, shaking hands with Noah and kissing Emily on the cheek. Rachel elbows him when she realizes he hasn't wiped the sullen look off his features.

"We're so happy to have you here," says Rachel, bringing out glasses for the wine Noah brought. There is vague music playing in the background, quiet enough to not overtake the conversation but loud enough to provide commentary on.

"It was our pleasure," replies Emily, her voice filled with what she hopes is warmth. She is still seething about having to come to the dinner. The conversation flows easily between the two couples. The pieces of quiet are stifled as easily as they come. Several hours into the conversation, Rachel is amazed at how wonderfully everything is flowing. The food is delicious, and Mark has stopped sulking, finally animated in conversation.

However, the conversation soon comes to a halt when Emily stops chewing, clearly uncomfortable with the newest bite she has taken. She brings her hand to her mouth, evidently queasy.

"I'm rather sorry, Rachel, but it seems as I'm no longer feeling well. Is it possible for me to lay down and rest for a little while?"

Rachel looks concerned, and immediately stands, sticking out her hand.

"Of course, Em. Come along, I'll show you the guest room."

The pair walk away, leaving a sullen Mark with Noah. Mark continues to take brief sips of his wine, casually observing Noah from the corner of his eye. He's at a loss at how to continue the conversation, not knowing the other man very well. He's heard the history between Rachel and her high school friend, knowing that the two dated briefly in high school and the relationship never panned out. He's kept a careful eye on Rachel when Noah re-appeared into her life, carefully scrutinizing the body language between the pair. He's never had any reason to believe that the relationship is more than platonic but still, it is rather necessary to keep an eye on the close male friend. After all, it is rather odd that Noah proposed to his girlfriend so soon after Rachel became engaged.

Soon enough, the silence grows awkward between the pair. Noah looks around the place, frantically searching for something to discuss. Slightly frowning, he realizes there is nothing available at his disposal.

"So, how do you like banking? Rachel tells me you received your MBA from NYU. Right where you met, actually." Upon hearing the words leave his mouth, Noah wants to hit himself in the forehead. He wonders why he couldn't choose something more, well, manly.

Mark looks at Noah as though he has suddenly sprouted three heads. He is careful to disguise his amusement with regards to the question.

"Banking is fine," he replies finally. "The way that it has been for the past several years. Sluggish growth. Are you familiar with the industry? What is it exactly you do again? Rachel has never been too clear with details relating to your profession."

Noah takes another sip of his drink, resolving to keep his calm. He tries to remember what it is specifically that he liked about the other man. Other than that Rachel liked him.

"Private. I doubt it would interest you."

Mark leans back in his chair. He puts his hands behind his head, a light smirk trailing the edges of his mouth.

"Try me."

Before Noah could respond, Rachel waltzes back into the room. Noah tries to hide his glee with her re-appearance. Had she spent any more time away, he believes he would have been likely to do something inappropriate, something along the lines of wiping Mark's smirk off his face.

"Welcome back, gorgeous. Is Emily feeling well?"

Rachel sits down in her chair, tying her hair in a loose ponytail. Normally, she feels flattered with regards to the term of endearment. She finds it rather unsettling this evening. She wonders if it correlates to Noah's presence at the table.

"She's taking a light nap. Hopefully, it's nothing more serious than needing some rest," she responds, looking between Noah and Mark. Both echo unreadable expressions. She continues to look back and forth between the two, possessing the feeling of interrupting something important. She wants to say something that would answer her question but she chooses to say nothing instead.

"What did you two discuss in my absence?"

The two men exchange glances, and both shrug at the same time.

"Nothing, Mark was just discussing his career with me. Rather fascinating," replies Noah. He looks around the room; the tension at the table clearly palpable.

Rachel attempts to continue the conversation, much of the dialogue spoken at the table is spoken by her. She discusses her new Broadway role, the lead in Spring Awakening. She had desired the part for quite a while, and received the script only a week earlier. She chats eagerly with regards to the script, sharing the information that she possesses.

Noah glances at his watch after some time has passed, taking note of the late hour.

"I'm going to go wake up Emily, it's rather late. We should be heading off. Thanks for a great evening."

Rachel waves her hand in disagreement. It would be in poor taste if she turned Noah away into the night at this late hour.

"Nonsense. It's fine, Noah. You can occupy the guest bedroom. You know, the same one where your fiancée currently sleeps in."

She leans onto Mark, wiping the tiredness out of her eyes. He puts his arm around her waist to steady her, careful to keep an eye on Noah's reaction to the gesture.

"I don't want to impose, I could just call a cab."

"Really, it's fine. What are guest bedrooms for?" asks Mark. He shoots Noah a tired smile, gripping Rachel closer, and Noah feels awkward under the weight of the stare. Mark is staring at him, almost as though he expects Noah to try something while spending the night. Noah wants to laugh at the absurd notion; as if him and Berry have ever been close with anything but platonic relations.

Noah stares, finally nodding. It is rather late, he thinks.

Rachel kisses Mark, Noah looking away. He's seen her kiss Mark a significant amount of times through the years he's known her, and it's never come to bother him before. He brushes the feeling aside, blaming it on the amount of alcohol consumed tonight.

Mark walks into the master bedroom, and Rachel grins up at Noah.

"Come on, we have to make a stop by the hallway closet to give you a bed spread and sheets. Emily already fell asleep in there, so I assume that she has some covering, but I don't know if she has a pillow or anything else for you."

He shrugs, beyond the point of caring at this late hour. He watches her take out several items from the closet, holding it out to him in her hands. He stares at her, and even tired, she looks beautiful.

He leans in, his eyes alarming close, and she can see the multicolored flecks of his eyes. Rachel thinks he's moved too close, he's close enough for her to lean in and kiss him. Briefly, she remembers he was a good kisser. She wonders if his technique would improve. He brushes a loose hair away, and grins lopsidedly. She means to tell him good night, but she continues to stare; they both stare. There is a faraway voice inside her head, whispering how ridiculous it be standing in the hallway with him at this time of hour, almost as though she doesn't want to leave.

She clears her throat uncomfortably. There is tension thickening around them. He takes the bedsheets from her, and walks into the spare bedroom without a glance behind her. Rachel leans her forehead against the door, her hand on her heart to steady her breathing.

That's never happened before, she thinks. She's never had that sort of reaction being in his presence. She shakes her head, smiling wryly. It's likely to be the alcohol playing with her mind. She'll know better not to consume as much next time.

She walks back to her room, peeling off her dress as she walks inside.

"Mark," she says quietly, whispering in the dark. "Tonight wasn't so bad, was it? I thought it went rather well.

"Mark," she says again. Crawling into bed, she realizes he's already fast asleep, disappointing her. She wonders why he's asleep; he never falls asleep this quickly, and often, he's the one keeping her awake. She counts his breaths, steady and sure.

He snores, not quite the answer she was expecting, and she turns back around. She's not quite sure why she attempted to wake him, not quite sure what she needed to say that was so important at close to one in the morning. She sighs, staring at her closet. She lays awake for a long time, staring into the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel wakes up alone the next morning, squinting as the flood of sunlight streams into her eyes. Stretching out her hands above her, she glances around the room, the content feeling sinking into her bones. She loves this room, this house. She wipes the sleep from her bleary eyes and turns over, content crystallizing into disappointment when she sees that Mark is nowhere to be found. She paddles through the rooms until she finds his note in the kitchen, his scrawl informing her he went into work early, and that Noah and Emily left some time ago. Crumpling the note into her fist, she aims at the trash and misses.

She leans against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee keeping her hands warm. She would have liked to say good-bye. She doesn't know why it bothers her that she missed the opportunity.

She is kept busy with rehearsals for several weeks, only seeing Mark in passing. He is awake when she is asleep, and he is long gone by the time her eyes open. She's disappointed she wakes up alone for weeks on end. Living with a stranger has never been a forte of hers. A month into her grueling schedule, she makes plans for a Sunday to relax. Normally, she would never consider taking a pause but she values this relationship with Mark; what good is success if it's alone? She never would have imagined it but she desires the companionship this relationship offers her. She corners Mark into spending the day with her, and paces the house when he's missing when she wakes up. She tries his cell phone to no avail, his crisp voice mail kicking in every time.

She calls every hospital in the New York area but he hasn't been in an accident. She decides against calling his parents or his friends, nearly positive they wouldn't have answers for her. She would also hate to worry them over this.

Rachel is sitting on the couch, glass of wine in her hand, her finger tracing its stem. She stopped wondering where he disappeared to several hours ago. The sun is setting when Mark comes in, nearly jumping out of his skin when he notices her. She doesn't say anything, merely observing him from the distance. She waits for him to kiss her, to apologize for missing their outing, but he doesn't say anything of the sort.

"Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at rehearsals?"

"No. I took off one day to spend time with you, a day I wasted when you weren't here when I woke up. It's Sunday, Mark. I couldn't imagine where you could be."

Mark hits himself in his forehead, a small twinkle in his eye hoping to play his absence off as a mistake. Rachel's frown doesn't budge, tapping her foot as she waits for his answers.

"That was today? I'm sorry, babe. I assumed that we were spending next Sunday together."

Rachel says nothing. She continues to observe Mark, his fingers loosening his tie. She waits several beats before she says anything, waiting to see if there is more to the story.

"No, it was today. I reminded you about it several days. I even set it up as a calender event on your blackberry. The blackberry that is like a sixth thumb to your hand."

He shrugs. Rachel wonders if it's her imagination that he's avoiding eye contact.

"Nothing went off on my phone today. Maybe you programmed incorrectly."

Rachel kinks an eyebrow at the excuse. She never programs anything incorrectly, even possessing a tendency to go over things several times to ensure they work. Mark's always laughed at her for it, her need to continuously check everything.

"Where did you go?"

"Catch up on some work related matters."

"I called work. They said you weren't scheduled to come in."

"I was there. Maybe they didn't look hard enough," he says laughingly. "Where else would I have gone?"

Rachel scoffs. It's a small office, and likely to be smaller on a Sunday. Seeds of doubt begin to infiltrate her mind.

"I can't believe you're lying about this."

"I'm not lying, Rachel. As far as I'm concerned, I have nothing to lie about."

"But you are lying. It's a small office, a small office that doesn't work this late, especially on a weekend."

She notices his eyes roll upwards in response to her comment, the gesture further angering her. She had carved out a day for them to be together, to reconnect, and he rolls his eyes at her. She doesn't remember him behaving in a similar fashion in previous instances. They casually iron out the grievances; he's never been purposely disrespectful.

"You're not even upset that we weren't able to spend the day together. You're rolling your eyes at me."

"Honestly, I don't see the big deal, Rach. We're getting married. We're going to be spending a whole lifetime's worth together. What's one day in comparison to the others?"

"A relationship cannot survive if we don't spend time together. We haven't even started the wedding planning."

"Who's fault is that? You're never around. Ever. You're asleep when I walk in, and gone by the time I open my eyes. I never see you, we haven't had a decent conversation since you took this role. I don't even want to think about what's going to happen once performances actually begin."

Rachel recoils at the pointed edge of his words. She swallows uncomfortably. Don't let him steer you off topic, Rachel. Don't let him do it, she repeats to herself several times over. She chooses her words carefully, more for her sake than for his.

"We've both been busy people hence why I assumed it would be nice to spend some quiet time together. We've been behaving as strangers for the better part of this month, and I just thought that the one day we can share together, you would be able to be here. Not be around wherever it is that you went off to."

She makes a careful note to not mention the wedding.

"Look, I already apologized. It was an accident. Mistakes like this happen."

He turns to look at her over his shoulder as he walks up the sloping staircase.

"I'll sleep in the guest room tonight, give you some time to cool down."

He walks away from her, flipping the switch by his side.

The next morning, normalcy is restored to the household. Neither Rachel nor Mark make mention of the previous day's incident, the pair pasting on smiles in conversation.

"I'll be awake when you get in tonight," he mentions on his way out the door. She nods in response, slightly hopeful. He hasn't been awake since the day this journey began.

He kisses her good-bye, and she stifles the hurtful feelings that are converging in a nest at the bottom of her stomach. They've had their fair share of arguments, and they're sure to enjoy some more during the course of the progressing relationship. She wills herself to not take his words seriously. He didn't mean anything he said, and she didn't either. They've both been stressed due to a multitude of things, and the disagreement was just an attempt at expressing their frustration. She attempts to rationalize her thoughts as she makes her way to the theater. There's still quite some time left before rehearsals come to an end, and the play is ready to been seen live.

The director kicks her behind for several hours, her body moving in positions she was aware she could do. Her legs twist and her arms bend enough to make her yearn for a weekend in a spa retreat. She walks back to her private space slowly, her hand slowly massaging the aches. She thinks of Mark, hoping he's home and could be talked into massaging her neck.

Walking into her room, she stops in her tracks when she sees a familiar face peering back at her. She feels an immediate rush of warmth threading through her as she pounces on Noah, enveloping him in a terribly strong hug. She hasn't seen him for the length of these rehearsals, the longest they've gone apart.

"What are you doing here? What are your views on the performance? It's still early, we definitely need more time to finesse the minor details."

"Pretty good, Berry. You did well," Noah says wickedly. "Most of the time, anyway."

Rachel giggles, and smacks him on the shoulder. "Very funny, Puckerman."

She stops laughing suddenly, a worried look threading through her eyes. Scanning through her memory of the performance, she believed she did rather well. Still, if Noah says pieces of her performance were flawed, she finds it worrisome. He's always been honest with her.

"Wait, do you really mean that?"

He rolls his eyes at her concern. She's always had a flair of the dramatic. She's good, and she still continues to question her ability. "No, Berry. I'd never mean that. You were made for this role. Plus, like you said, it's still early in the rehearsal stage right? You have time to improve."

"Improve? I'm worried. Am I that bad?"

"You're terrible."

"That's not funny, Noah. Now I'm rather worried."

He stares back into her eyes, feeling guilty for the concerned look he put into her eyes. Noah decides that the best thing would be to make her smile, his eyes quickly scanning the room for something amusing. His eyes land on the couch, and before he can think, she lands underneath him, and her laughter is the only sound that fills the room. She freezes as his hand worms its way to her rib cage, and just as quickly, his eyelashes come to be too close.

"What are we doing?" She asks, startled by the events that they're in the middle of.

He shakes his head as he climbs off, perturbed by her reaction. He's touched her hundreds of times over the years, and she's never said a thing.

"We're not doing anything, Rach. Calm down," he says in response as he takes in her reaction carefully. She blinks rapidly, her thoughts distracted by his presence. He snaps his fingers in front of her, and she is transported back to the present.

She rubs her forehead. She blames her overreaction on the stress of the past few weeks. Noah's touched her plenty of times before this moment, each one innocent.

"Sorry, I've had a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head. She could talk to Noah about everything, she's always viewed him as a stable force to confide in. She found it unsettling to discuss Mark in the beginning, and she's attempted to steer clear of the topic.

"Okay, fair enough. Anyway, I gotta go. I was in the neighborhood, and figured I would just drop by. We haven't seen each other for couple of weeks now. Give me a call, stranger. We'll set up lunch for next week or whatever."

He envelops her in a hug, and she feels her arms snake around his waist, her head leaning against his chest. He kisses her on the forehead, a smile on his mouth and leaves her. She watches him go, and quickly stuffs her belongings into the bag. She wants to spend as much time with Mark before he falls asleep.

She comes home, unlocking the door furiously to be greeted by the deafening silence. Rachel throws her keys on the counter, staring around at the emptiness. She blinks back the tears as she shuts the lights.


	5. Chapter 5

The fever of Opening day hits Rachel the last week of April. Rehearsals have drawn to an end, and she is down to her final week before the curtain rises. She finds herself pacing when she isn't preparing. The director increases rehearsal hours but she finds some time to sneak away to Central Park to enjoy the rising temperatures. She walks across the grass barefoot and finds that she loves New York best in the spring time.

The day before it's all set to begin, she walks into the kitchen, her hand on her fast heart. She's nervous, rather nervous. She didn't expect to have a case of the butterflies. She's had performances before but none of come to affect her quite the way this one does. She would hate to disappoint a fellow cast member, the director; hell, she would hate to disappoint anyone involved with the production. She glances around, and makes herself a cup of tea to relax. Tapping her feet impatiently, she begins to dance around the kitchen, smacking into Mark. Surprisingly enough, he's awake this time of morning, and she's pleased. She leans into kiss him, and continues to dance around him on her tiptoes.

"So much energy," he says, taking sips of coffee. He ruffles her hair when she stops in front of him, her hand swinging around his neck. She tries to persuade him to move with her but he doesn't budge, so she stops. She pouts but he doesn't fall prey to her face.

"Truth be told, I'm rather nervous. We're going to do a dress rehearsal tonight, catch up on some rest, do a final run through in the morning, and then the curtain goes up at seven."

She pauses, looking worried.

"You'll be there, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Go on, you're going to be late. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

She kisses him on the cheek, and runs out the door. He watches as her hair goes flying behind her, and cautiously shuts the door after she's disappeared out of his view. Instantly, he hears his Blackberry beeping.

+1917. Did she leave yet?

M. She'll be gone for two days. Hurry over ;)

+1917. Be there in 20.

M. Can't wait, xxo.

Mark takes another sip of his coffee, and grimaces. He hates the way she makes his coffee. Spilling it down the drain, he goes upstairs to prepare for his temporary guest.

Arriving at the theater, Rachel has come to be a barrel of nerves. The dress rehearsal passes in a blur, she collapses on the couch with sore muscles and wakes up only to do it again. She has a light snack and then runs back and forth, checking behind the curtains to see if any of her guests have arrived as of yet. After awhile, she doesn't have time to check and scampers to do hair and make-up. Everybody exchanges well-wishes, and Rachel attempts to squelch the nervous butterflies in her stomach. They're going crazy inside, but the minute the spotlight shines on her, she doesn't have time to think.

The performance receives a standing ovation, surprising everyone including herself. She thought that it was a job well done, and there were no major issues. Still. A standing ovation is more than she could have hoped for. She grips her co-workers hand tightly, and they all bow together prior to scampering off-stage. Everyone begins to toast her, and she raises her glasses to everyone else as well. Mark finds her, smiling but he doesn't whisper words of praise. She finds it unsettling.

It is an hour into the party when Rachel spots Noah with Emily backstage, gleefully shouting when she spots them. She kisses them both on the cheek, grabbing Noah's hand in hers, as they shower her with congratulations. She blames it on the alcohol she's had to drink when she sees Emily's eyes narrow. She doesn't understand the big deal about her holding Noah's hand, she's done this for years before.

Mark massages her neck with his free hand, planting a kiss on the side of her forehead. He's at her side for a little over an hour when he whispers into her ear that he has to leave. She snaps her head to look at him, convinced she heard him incorrectly.

"I would love to stay, but this party is for you and your crew, for the people that made this play a rousing success its first night."

When he repeats himself, she has a sinking feeling she heard him correctly the first time. Rachel wants to object; murmur that he's part of her success, he belongs here. This is her big night, the apex of her career. Surely he would want to stay and share it with her, if only as someone on her side. She says nothing when he doesn't want to stay, tilting her head to the side when he kisses her good-bye.

She wanders around the crowd, air kissing everyone as they pass by. She's grateful for the positive reviews she has been accumulating tonight, and she refuses to allow Mark's absence to take away from her glory. It's nearly one in the morning when the crowd begins to thin down. She's about to head out the door herself when she catches Noah sitting on the couch, casually sipping a beer.

"Hey, stranger," he says, when she walks over.

She rests her head against his shoulder, taking her first steady breath of the night.

"Some night, eh? You look beat," he swings his arm over her shoulder to allow her to be more comfortable.

"I'm tired. It's been a bit of a whirlwind. I'm tired but grateful. Thanks for staying. It means something to me."

"It is an honor to be here with you on your big night. I should be thanking you instead, Berry. So many people loved you tonight."

He makes no mention of Mark, having seen him depart earlier in the evening.

She laughs tiredly. She wants to confide in him the happiness this night has brought to her, the happiness that is weighed heavily that Mark wasn't here with her. That Mark, of all people, left. She had all these amazing people who came to celebrate with her but the most significant part of her world wouldn't stay.

"Like I said, tired but grateful."

"How are you getting home?"

"Probably the train, maybe a cab."

He stands up, sticking his hand out to hers.

"Nah, it's fine. Em and I live several blocks from here, remember? You should crash with us. I'm sure Emily wouldn't mind."

"I don't know," she said hesitantly. "Where is Emily, anyway?"

"She had to go home, feeling under the weather."

Rachel nods in understanding. She hopes that Emily is feeling better but the pair aren't close enough for her to significantly care. She likes her enough.

He sticks out his hand to her again, impatient at her inability to grab on.

"Are you sure I wouldn't be imposing?"

"Positive, Berry. Besides, it's late. What kind of friend would I be if I left you to wander the city streets late at night by yourself?"

She laughs. "A terrible friend, indeed."

Rachel ends up grabbing onto his hand on the walk home, the fingers seamlessly intertwining with hers. She had forgotten to take comfortable shoes, and combined with several drinks, she wasn't comfortable walking on her own. They walk in silence, and he shushes her as they walk inside the apartment.

"There are no lights on," she remarks as he grapples around in the dark.

"That's weird. Emily generally likes to leave the lights on when she's home alone. I come in, and there's always a flood greeting me. It's a waste of electricity, if you ask me."

Rachel looks around. "Doesn't seem that she's home."

Noah purses his lips, taking out his cell phone to dial his fiancée.

"She's not picking up," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Come on, I'll show you to the guest room."

"No, it's fine. You stay here, and continue calling. I remember where it is."

She makes her way to the guest room, pausing to remove several sheets from the hall closet. She's made it to brush her teeth, and tuck herself in before Noah returns to her. She watches him sit on the edge of the bed, re-positioning her legs to allow him space.

"Any luck?"

"None. I'm hoping that she stopped by her friends first, they live two floors above us. I don't know if I should call, though. It is late."

"I'm sure she's probably upstairs but late or not, you should double check with them, anyway. Perhaps it's better to be safe than sorry."

He nods thoughtfully, an awkward silence stretching between them. She coughs uncomfortably and he realizes he isn't letting her sleep.

"You're right. I'll let you get to bed then, superstar. You were wonderful tonight."

Rachel leans in to kiss him before she has a chance to think. His mouth tastes like single malt scotch, the flavor burning through her mouth. She wonders how many he's had. He kisses her back, an instinctive reaction. Pulling away before the kiss deepens, she doesn't have a chance to speak regarding what occurred when she hears someone clear their throat. She thinks it's a sound in the far off distance, but she sees Emily from the corner of her eye. She wonders how much the other woman saw as she watches Noah run out of the room to talk.

Emily rummages through her drawers, angrily pushing the clothes around. Noah leans against the doorway frame, his hands folded across his stomach. He stays still for several moments, waiting for her to catch a breath so he could explain. Truth be told, he's not sure how much to explain; he's not a hundred percent of how much she had seen. He's too worried about what she would say that he forgets to ask her why she comes home late, later than him if she left first.

He tries his first excuse, convinced she'll see through any of his explanations, regardless.

"It was nothing, Em. I don't know what you say, or how much you saw, but it was nothing. Rachel just had a bit to drink, and assumed I was Mark."

Noah winces as he says the last part, promising he'll go over everything with Rachel in the morning. He watches Emily pause, and nearly sighs from relief when she doesn't throw something.

"What do you mean, how much I saw? There's more than her making those bedroom eyes at you?"

He feels a minor thread of relief silver through him when she doesn't mention the kiss.

"It was nothing, she doesn't have feelings for me. I don't have feelings for her. It was nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing, Noah. No matter how you defend yourself, that little nothing definitely looked like something."

She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest. After several minutes, she comes to look up at him. She looks in his eyes, searching for signs of guilt. The only threads she sees are those echoing in her eyes. She bites her lip.

"Be honest. Do I have anything to worry about?"

"No, you don't," he replies, kissing her neck, laying her down on the bed. "We're getting married, you're the woman I want to spend a lifetime with."

She doesn't say anything in response, allowing him to wrap her into his arms. He's there, his hand is stroking her back, but she does not find this as reassuring as she should. The roots of doubt have taken hold of her, and she stays awake longer than he does, her mind on what she saw.


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel wakes up with a start when she realizes that there is someone peering at her while she sleeps. She opens her eyes and sees Emily casually drinking some tea, her fingers tightly gripping the fine china. She blinks, and clenches her own hands against the bed covers. She would like to pinch herself but that would look inappropriate. Well. No more inappropriate than being watched while asleep.

"Good morning," Rachel says cautiously. She understands that she's a guest in their home. Still, that's no reason to be watching her as she sleeps. She wonders if Emily does this to all the guests, careful to make sure that none of the good china is stolen. But who keeps good china in a guest room?

"Good morning," Emily replies, almost with a chirp. She doesn't say anything further, merely watching as Rachel pulls the covers to her chin. Rachel is at a loss for words, believing this to be quite an awkward situation that she has found herself in.

"I love Noah very much," she finally says, staring at Rachel to gauge her reaction.

Rachel doesn't say anything, choosing to keep quiet instead. Really, she thinks, wishing she could shake her head. Really, what does Emily expect her to say? She hopes that the other woman doesn't expect to engage in a battle for his affection. She has enough to deal with on her plate. She also wants to inquire why they have to continue this conversation while she's not dressed but she says nothing. Perhaps if she doesn't speak, Emily will wander out the door.

"I know he's rather fond of you, so I continue to put up with your presence in our lives."

"I'm sorry, I was under the assumption that we're all friends here."

Emily shoots her a snide look prior to replying.

"We are, but I know, and you know, there's no such thing as friendship where my fiancé is concerned. He's finally proposed to me, and we're starting a life together, and to be honest, I noticed the way you were eying him last night when I walked in."

"Excuse me? I wasn't eying him. We were having a conversation, as old friends often do."

Rachel scrambles in her mind to see if she was eying Noah a particular way. Just in case. Her blind spot masks the kiss.

"Yes, well. Old friends or not, I'm not prepared to lose him to you after all the time I've invested into this relationship. I suggest you attempt to maintain your distance."

Emily stands, smoothing out her skirt.

"Noah's already left for work, and I'm leaving as well. The housekeeper is here so I assume you can see your way out. Enjoy your morning."

She departs from the room, leaving a flabbergasted Rachel in her wake. The nerve of the woman, she thinks. She would have a few choice words to say if she was still in her field of vision. Flopping her head back onto her pillow, Rachel pulls the covers over her head and bites her lip to keep from screaming. She's in the early beginnings of a demanding role, her relationship is suffering, and now she has to deal with the jealous fiancée of the only childhood friend she keeps in touch with. It would be mildly amusing if it didn't make her want to scream in frustration.

An hour later, Rachel is making her way out of the bed. She has the luxury of enjoying a day off to recuperate from the previous night's performance. Checking her phone, she sees a quick apology from Noah that he didn't wait for her to wake up before he left. She smiles at the attached smiley faces, sending back a quick reply expressing her gratitude both for attending and allowing her to spend the night. She ignores the fact that Mark hasn't bothered to text or call with regard to where she is. She has been away all night, and there's not a single exchange of communication.

She takes a taxi home, debating what to do with her day off. She comes home to find Mark missing, throwing her bag on the counter out of anger. She texts him inquiring if he wants to run errands with her, unsurprised when he shakes her off with a solid no. He doesn't bother to provide a solid reason for the decline. She blames it on work, her eyes shading to the various other reasons dancing amongst her thoughts. Rachel walks out the door, her face hit with rays of sunshine and she promises herself things will become different.

She wanders around the Upper East side, her feet slowly making their way downtown. She ends up in front of Macy's in Herald Square, and shrugs. She's not due home, per se, Mark wouldn't call and inquire as to what's keeping her so long. She decides to walk in on a whim,

Rachel smirks, remembering Emily's lecture from several weeks past. So much for a love lasting forever, she thinks. Her smirk elapses into a frown when she realizes that for Emily to be with a stranger, she wouldn't be able to be with Noah. She pulls out her phone, her fingers scrolling to find his name. Finding it easily enough, she doesn't know what to say. She would like to inform Noah of what she has seen but she cannot tell him anything without evidence.

For several minutes, Rachel stays glued to her position. She can't believe that Emily would be cheating on Noah, Noah and his wonderful heart. He's undergone a significant transformation since high school, growing up to be the man she always knew he could be. She has seen the way he's stared at Emily, he'll be devastated. She has to be more than a hundred percent sure before she goes and breaks his heart.

Emily and the other man move slowly through the aisles of the store, Rachel shadowing their every step. Rachel observes her with the mysterious man. He's wearing a Mets hat, evoking memories of Mark. Mark loves the Mets. Rachel doesn't particularly care for the team, even more so given their current state. It's a debacle how the organization is run. She shakes her head, reminding herself to focus. She quickly ducks behind a nearby cabinet when she realizes she has wandered too close to them. Even from a distance, Rachel could see the closeness between the pair, and she quietly tiptoes to follow them. She tiptoes along when she stops suddenly, ducking behind another cabinet. She's slightly afraid to turn and make eye contact, should they continue to stand there. Deciding to count to thirty prior to turning around, she turns around with her eyes peeled to the floor, smacking into a body.

She opens her eyes, bewildered at the person staring back at her.

"Mark?"

"You look surprised to see me."

"Yeah, well. I wasn't expecting to run into you in the middle of the bedroom furniture section this afternoon. You informed me you were working when I asked you to run errands with me."

He throws an arm around her shoulders, flashing a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"I wanted to surprise you. You had mentioned you would like a new bedroom set, so I decided to check them out."

Rachel stays silent, wondering if it's a coincidence that he's in the same outfit as Emily's stranger. She feels her teeth moving instinctively moving to bite the inside corner of her cheek,

He kisses her on the side of her forehead, and takes her hand.

"Since you're here, we should wander around together."

Mark grips her hand tightly as they walk away, Rachel quietly discussing everything in sight. She doesn't notice the silence Mark emits but she'll notice something inside her shifts when she touches his palm. It's warm, she thinks. It's warm because someone's held this hand before.


End file.
